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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436921">Redeeming Bob</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnelsonriker/pseuds/tnelsonriker'>tnelsonriker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Las Vegas (TV 2003), Leverage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:54:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnelsonriker/pseuds/tnelsonriker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happened AFTER Bob was arrested in the episode "The Strange Life of Bob."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Redeeming Bob</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bob sat in the cold interrogation room, hands cuffed behind his back, head hanging with his hair in his eyes. He stared at the table in front of him and mulled over everything that had happened over the last few days. How had his life come to this? They were saying he was a killer. He didn’t think it possible but, unfortunately, he couldn’t remember a thing that had happened prior to about two weeks before.<br/>
He remembered waking up in the desert, blood that wasn’t his own all over his shirt, a gun on the ground at his side. There was no identification in his pocket, only a poker chip from the Montecito casino in Las Vegas. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember anything before that. He had some vague impressions, perhaps, but nothing concrete.</p>
<p><br/>
Hoping that the Montecito might hold the secret to his past, he had made his way there to see if anything would jog his memory. Unfortunately, nothing did. Having no money and no place to live along with not even knowing his own name, Bob had to improvise. He found that if he acted as though he worked there, people automatically assumed he did. He borrowed work shirts and name tags from the locker room and went around the casino doing odd jobs as a “floater.” His easygoing personality and friendly, helpful attitude earned him generous tips which paid for clothes and food. He even found out-of-the-way places to sleep so he didn’t have to waste money on a hotel room.</p>
<p><br/>
While posing as a floater, Bob met Nessa Holt, head pit boss and adoptive daughter of the casino owner. Not knowing his real name, he pulled “Bob” out of thin air and told Nessa that’s what it was, but he evaded other questions about his past. Nessa was beautiful and funny, and he enjoyed her company immensely. Luckily for him, she appeared to enjoy his, too. Even though he didn’t know what his past might have been, he thought perhaps he could see a future with her. Now that dream had been destroyed.</p>
<p><br/>
Bob was uncertain how Ed Deline, the casino owner, came to review casino footage and discover Bob’s deceptions as an employee. Ed later found the bloody shirt and gun in a locker Bob was using and called the cops.</p>
<p><br/>
For a brief moment, it was believed that Bob might be FBI Special Agent Cory Fox who had gunned down another man as part of an undercover operation gone bad. The name Cory Fox seemed so familiar to Bob that he was certain that’s who he was. But when the man’s wife came to greet him, she didn’t recognize him. It was then that the police decided that Bob must be Cory Fox’s killer.</p>
<p><br/>
After police found a burned-out car outside of Las Vegas, they brought video footage to Ed, who was able to enhance it using state-of-the-art equipment. The incriminating video showed Bob shooting Special Agent Fox in the chest, burying the body in the desert, and burning the car. The gas tank exploded as the car burned and flying shrapnel had pelted Bob, knocking him to the ground where he violently hit his head. This is what likely caused the amnesia.</p>
<p><br/>
Now here he sat, awaiting further interrogation by someone in the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. He really didn’t know what to tell them. He wished he could remember, even if it revealed that he was a cold-blooded killer. But Bob didn’t feel in his heart that was the truth. Yet, something niggled at the back of his mind, something vaguely foreboding perhaps? He shook his head in consternation and looked up at the sound of the door opening.</p>
<p><br/>
“Bob, is it?” scowled a large man with a bald pate and a thin fringe of brownish hair. He sat heavily in the chair on the other side of the table. Bob looked at him and said nothing.</p>
<p><br/>
“I’m Detective Max Allen,” the man said affably. “You know there’s a lot of evidence against you, right Bob? What have you got to say about it?”</p>
<p><br/>
“I don’t have anything to say,” Bob replied, “because I don’t remember any of it.”</p>
<p><br/>
“I heard that’s the way you wanted to play this, but it’s not going to help you, son.” Detective Allen huffed into his bushy mustache and eyed Bob suspiciously. He had dealt with his type before, but there was something about this guy that was a little different. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly. It was just a perception that there was more to Bob than met the eye.</p>
<p><br/>
“We have video footage of you shooting Special Agent Cory Fox. Clear as day. What we don’t know, exactly, is why.” Allen shoved a fuzzy photo across the table and Bob saw himself with a gun pointed at another man who looked vaguely familiar. He didn’t like guns. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he knew it was true. If he had used one, there must not have been another choice.</p>
<p><br/>
“That’s not me.” Bob looked up at the detective and stared him down.</p>
<p><br/>
“Well, it surely is, son, no use denying it.” Allen stared back, but was the first to look away. Something in Bob’s eyes disturbed him.<br/>
Suddenly there was a knock on the door and a clerk nervously poked his head in. “Sorry to disturb you sir, but there’s a guy out here who insists on speaking with you.”</p>
<p><br/>
“What guy?” Allen asked, wearily hauling himself out of his chair. “I just started this interrogation and I’m not done yet.”</p>
<p><br/>
“He’s a military guy and he’s a little scary, sir,” the clerk held the door open for the detective as they exited the room.</p>
<p><br/>
Before the door closed completely, Bob heard an agitated voice in the hall say, “That’s my man, and I’m his handler, and I want him released NOW!”</p>
<p><br/>
Baffled, Bob stared at the closed door and tried to make sense of it. The voice sounded familiar, but who was he? The term “handler” made him think of the government, like the CIA. Was he in the CIA? Or the FBI like Special Agent Fox? Why would he have killed the guy?</p>
<p><br/>
The door burst open then and a very tall, imposing man entered with Detective Allen in his wake.</p>
<p><br/>
“You can’t just bust in here, Colonel! This man is our suspect in the brutal murder of an FBI agent!” Allen yelled.</p>
<p><br/>
“I know what he’s been accused of, and I’m telling you that it was a need-to-know government operation that this man was a part of that is no concern of yours,” the army Colonel retorted. “Uncuff him. Now!”</p>
<p><br/>
“I can’t do that.” Allen disagreed. “Not until the District Attorney agrees to release him.”</p>
<p><br/>
A voice behind Detective Allen said, “I don’t agree with it, but we don’t have a choice.”</p>
<p><br/>
“District Attorney Karen Ryan.” A tall redhead entered the room and extended her hand to the Army officer.</p>
<p><br/>
“Colonel Michael Vance,” the man replied as he shook the District Attorney’s hand. “I trust you received the communiqué from the congressman?”</p>
<p><br/>
“Yes. The papers are in order, and this man is released to your custody,” Ms. Ryan reluctantly agreed. “But I hope you plan to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law. He killed a family man, Colonel, an agent of our own government.”</p>
<p><br/>
“I am not supposed to tell you this, but Special Agent Cory Fox was not who you think he was. He was a double agent, selling top secret military information to the North Koreans. My man here was assigned to infiltrate the operation and discovered Fox was the leak. He had no choice but to kill him.” Vance glanced over at Bob, who sat staring at him in wonder.</p>
<p><br/>
Bob shook his head, and suddenly memories started flooding his mind, fragmented at first and then taking shape. There were images of himself as a young man wearing an army uniform, hand-to-hand combat with an unknown assailant, a knife fight with another. Other uniforms worn, Delta Force and Green Berets, danced through his mind. He remembered many undercover operations, some questionable, but all for the good of the United States of America.</p>
<p><br/>
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and Bob said, “Colonel Vance, it’s good to see you sir. I would salute, but you can see I can’t at the moment.”</p>
<p><br/>
Detective Allen moved to uncuff Bob, frowning at the two men as he did so.</p>
<p><br/>
Bob stood and saluted Colonel Vance. “Thank you for getting me out of this predicament, sir. I took a pretty good whack on the head and didn’t remember who I was or what I was doing for awhile.”</p>
<p><br/>
“Let’s get out of here,” Vance urged as they both turned and strode out of the interrogation room.</p>
<p><br/>
“Hey, what’s your man’s name?” Allen called after them, looking at District Attorney Ryan in puzzlement.</p>
<p><br/>
“That’s on a need-to-know basis, too, and you don’t need to know.” Vance responded as he clapped Bob on the back.</p>
<p><br/>
When they were out of earshot, the Colonel said, “Let’s not do that again. I had a helluva time getting you out of there.”</p>
<p><br/>
“I appreciate it, sir. Some things are still a little fuzzy, but seeing you brought most of it back. I just have one question: what IS my real name?”<br/>

Laughing, Vance asked, “Bob doesn’t suit you?”</p>
<p><br/>
Bob shrugged. “Not really.”</p>
<p><br/>
“Well how does Eliot Spencer sound, then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>THE END</p>
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